PARASITE
by 1NF3CT10N
Summary: Madara x Sakura: because being scared of the dark is unreasonable.
1. DUSK

WE ARE EACH OUR OWN DEVIL, AND WE MAKE THIS WORLD OUR HELL.

Pain. Dodge. Punch. Kick. Curse. Repeat. Repetitive and accurate like a machine. Eyes as cold as steel. Motions controlled and precise. Deep breaths. Perhaps she'd pause in small increments if only to satisfy the watchers.

And then she would continue the cycle as her _guardians_ left.

She cursed between expirations, and howled as tears racked through her body; she'd continue her relentless thrashings if only to stop the _goddamn_ crying. And fuck, it hurt like hell. She wanted to be a machine; to stop feeling. To succeed.

The trees groaned under her fists. She had always had to be the one twice as strong to even receive acknowledgment. _Fuck,_ life is set on repeat. All that remained was splinters. She ground her teeth methodically, bit her lip and hoped for the best. Miserable? Enraged? Too far gone?_Fuck_, she didn't know anymore; she was just a stack of temperamental TNT, made with a short stick and a small fuse. If she blew up, only the friggin rabbits would flee. It was better to burn out then fade away.

She found herself rendered helpless as her integrity slowly sifted through her hands and joined the sands of time. Nothing could repel the flames; not with age, not with sand, not with time, not with water. It was a relentless onslaught of nausea and intense waves of fire and animosity to the world- a world suddenly filled with hate; a world that had abandoned her. Her prison was her mind; she was not more then a caged bird.

IT WAS ALL A LIE. SHE WAS A SELF-RIGHTEOUS FOOL. SHE WAS NOTHING MORE.

Her friends, acquaintances, perhaps strangers, her "guardians," took no notice of her leave. They never detected the cracks in her mask; her empty facade. She could only laugh bitterly when they told her that emptiness came with power. She was what she had once fought against; an emotionless tool, a will of fire that was broken. The darkness crowed at the thought of her succumbing to its influential advances.

Fucking parasites; useless, shinobi tools. They would never understand because they wallowed in their own misery, clinging onto the morals and basics that they held dear. The will of Konoha possessed was admirable, but fire tends to burn leaves.

HER MIND WAS THE ONE THING SHE COULDN'T HEAL. SHE WAS MADE OF NIGHTMARES.

Who was she? She didn't even fucking know. She couldn't think anymore. All she could do was fucking feel; and that never got her anywhere in life.

Her light, her team, was gone. The light, which once held her darkness at bay, had no place in Konoha. She had no place here; she needed to leave before she was eaten alive. She needed her team. She clung to that notion like a lifeline.

**- -x x x o**

_a/n_: IDFK. BAD INTRO IS BAD. I DON'T WANNA REWRITE IT. GET OVER IT? ):


	2. PERPLEXITY

_Don't come back for me; __**who do you**_** think**_** you are?**_

_- - - ( & & & & & & ) _**P**ERPLEX_ITY_

Machines: cold, deadly things; accurate, timely, the epitome of what the whole human existence should strive to be. The thing about machines, though, is that the cheaper they are, the sooner they break down when you need them; then, that ill-fated, defeated machine holds everything back.

She was gifted in the art of deception; she could never be a machine. She played her life like chess; carefully, quietly making her moves and hiding her true motives on which piece she was going to capture next. Showing one's true intentions was overrated.

She knew she was not the only one playing this game; her opponent manipulated those machines into pawns, too, and make perfection into mockery, then into demonstrations of what true power should be. Those machines longed for his power, but they could only just begin to understand.

Untouchable; that's what she wanted to be. Rock solid, cold, but flexible. She would use her opponent as an example; she would win. She would hide her motives; she will be strong; and she will, obviously, kill as needed.

She needed to re-strategize.

- - - - - - - (_allthethings_yousaidrunning**throughmyhead**)

She was, by low standards, not a graceful fighter. Her style was based on lucky hits and obvious openings; a street fighter approach that was effective if only the opponent knew nothing about her. Then again, what respectable missing-nin didn't know about a pink haired green-eyed bitch who could create an earthquake with her fists? Hot damn, she was the hokage's apprentice for god's sake!

And then there was the ocean blue-eyed version of a hideous, growing problem that started to grow on her conscience. Seriously, how Sasuke even managed to leave, she didn't know. It was his silent resolve that moved her; his actions were louder then his words which are already comparatively frickin' loud. Then, her insecurities would start to nag on her. What would Kakashi think? Would he team up with Naruto and try to bring her back? Would they still pursue Sasuke over her? She felt like a little girl all over again.

But it was that little detail that harassed her; they left her here. Training, her ass; she knew that they had left her to go on their little pursuit of happiness in order to get Mr. Happiness himself, Sasuke, back. Why did they always avoid the truth? They always wanted to protect their precious little "Sakura-'chan'"; she couldn't spell it out anymore, she only rubbed salt in the wound. She was not a fucking little girl, she could handle the _fucking truth_.

She was all but a caged bird, locked in Konoha till her feathers fell out and she lost her will to sing; she'd croak like a frog; and everything would bleed into darkness, the cage would crumble into grains of rust and scatter into the wind. She would be forgotten; she was just a useless shinobi tool that learned a few cool tricks.

Fortunately for her, she had learned a few new "cool tricks" to keep her alive for a while longer. She had adapted a style that suited her more then blunt blows; it focused on balance, quick strikes and palm thrusts that absolutely required precise chakra control. The quick bursts of chakra outmatched her slow, strong punches. Neji, poor soul, was the one who helped her adapt to her new style for months; no one could give her palm-strike pointers like the god-like Hyuuga himself. In homage to her mentor, the painful sky leg technique was added into her combo for distractions and to rip whatever the hell she wanted up.

Her next projects were much more uncharacteristic; she had been developing her own space/time ninjutsu that was based on feeding on her dark energies. In theory, if a place was in view, she could plant a chakra base quickly, make a quick hand sign, then teleport her mass without depleting a massive amount of chakra. She assumed, in moments of battle in which numbers were key, she'd plant bases and stealth assassinate ninja from behind using her teleportation technique; but she was working out the kinks... Her clones only managed to teleport half their bodies in a veil of shadow, leaving a bloody mess in their wake.

She was never good with a katana; she needed a weapon for close combat that was either heavy and maneuverable, or light yet damaging. Reluctantly, she trudged to Ten Ten in need of advice. In a somewhat over-cheerful and bubbly manner, the weapon mistress gave her a longsword and a short, almost dagger-like ridged knife. The technique required her in a sturdy stance; the longsword, _Infinity_, in her left hand high up and parallel to the ground, and the short sword, _Symphony_, in her right hand thigh-height. The goal was to flay and use the swords in complex patterns to create wounds quickly with minimal energy; the weapons integrated seamlessly into her style and allowed her to allot her chakra. Apparently, a weapon-filled day was a good day to Ten Ten; she couldn't agree more.

- - - - - - - (_shesamessshesamessshesa_**mess**)

a/n: No cliff hanger. How disappointing...? If it seems rushed, it's because it is. Please note that her training took around a year; I'm just ridiculously lazy and I don't feel the need to have to write a chapter over every subject. I have a lot of respect for the authors who meticulously write out their training scenes and show how hard she's worked, but my details get dry after awhile. And before you give me the "AMG, ONE YEAR ISN'T ENUFF TO IMPROVE!1!1" shit, take any type of hand-to-hand combat class and just learn the basics. Even if you do it once a week, you make a hella lot of progress, so one year for a hardened pro to finish up a natural style working every day isn't so extraordinary. I mean, come on, she's love stoopid, not intelligence-wise. Yehaw, side note, I had finals 'n stuff, that's why my upload was slowwwww. : /

PEACE LATEEE.


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